“The Blue Book” in part, is a journey. But that journey, that trek through the high blanketed Alps, or that swim through the misty blue seas, is not for the author alone. It is for every single reader that lives through the book. Not only does this manuscript have the author’s soul and inner-most feelings inscribed across every inch of its pages but it also demands of the reader to expend upon it, his or her deepest, darkest emotions too. Only then can you sincerely “live” through the book, rather than just skim through it.

It has the good, sunny days. It has the deep, blue ones. It has fascinating, wishful stories. It has the harsh, brutal reality. It has longing. It has despair. But most of all, it has love.